


Reunion - N7 Month Day 6

by miceenscene



Series: N7 Month 2019 [6]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Afterlife, F/M, Mass Effect 2, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 06:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21333841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miceenscene/pseuds/miceenscene
Summary: G-If your face is feeling up to it, meet me in Afterlife. I’ll buy you a drink.-S
Relationships: Female Shepard & Garrus Vakarian, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: N7 Month 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533266
Comments: 3
Kudos: 104





	Reunion - N7 Month Day 6

_ G- _

_ If your face is feeling up to it, meet me in Afterlife. I’ll buy you a drink. _

_ -S _

The overwhelming irony of what he was doing was not lost on Garrus as he walked into Afterlife (the bar) to meet up with Shepard (somehow alive… again). His face still dully throbbed with pain, understandable given it met a rocket within the last week. The pain wasn’t unmanageable, but it was certainly unpleasant. The loud music pulsing through the club seemed to be in time with the beats in his head.

Shepard was sitting at the far end of the bar. She’d even saved him a seat just like he always thought she would if he got the chance to meet her in the actual afterlife. He sat down next to her; his knee accidentally brushed hers in the process.

He ordered and as the bartender walked away she asked, “Chakwas say how long till your face heals?”

“She said it’ll be a couple months, maybe even over a year before I can take the bandage off.”

Shepard gave a low whistle.

“But she cleared me for active duty starting next week.”

Shepard nodded. She shot back the rest of her glass, making Garrus’ throat burn in sympathy. But she didn’t react. She obviously had something on her mind. Some purpose to drag the two of them off the ship.

The bartender returned with his drink and another for Shepard. Garrus sipped and looked around. In all his time on Omega, he’d never managed to get into the upper room of Afterlife. Not that it was that much different or really any better than the lower room. He blinked in surprise when he realized that he could see Aria from where they were sitting. She was standing in a booth on the level above, surveying her kingdom and looking very pleased with herself. She looked down to Shepard and then she nodded at Garrus. He ducked his head. No sense drawing extra attention.

Shepard, however, hadn’t appeared to notice. She was idly twirling the straw from her drink between finger and thumb with a far away look.

“Shepard?” Garrus asked. 

She blinked a few times and her eyes focused on him. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out there for a bit.”

He couldn’t say he was the biggest fan of that phrase, but he pushed past it.

“So not that I don’t enjoy coming to a club where I’m a wanted man, but was there a reason we needed to come here? Joker said there’s a bar on the Normandy now.”

“The Normandy is bugged.”

“What? Where?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “There’s a few places I know for certain, but honestly, it could be everywhere. I wanted to talk with you where I knew the Illusive Man couldn’t hear.”

Garrus nodded and made a mental note to sweep the battery as soon as they returned to the  _ Normandy _ .

“Out of curiosity, what  _ was _ your plan back on the balcony?” she asked, taking a sip. “Not that I don’t admire the guts it took to goad the gangs into a stand off… but what was your exit strategy?”

“Ah.” He swirled the green liquid in the glass and considered how to answer. “It was… It was this. I was going to meet you for a drink.”

She frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. Then it clicked. He expected to get some sort of disapproving glare, but instead she chuckled once.

“You know there are other tactical options besides Blaze of Glory sometimes?” 

A hollow laugh rumbled through his chest. “If you have suggestions, I’m open. I’d love to know what the great Commander Shepard would do if she was up in a balcony for five days.” 

She shook her head. “Commander Shepard wouldn’t have gotten stuck up there in the first place.” She grinned sarcastically. “She’s very smart, I’m told. Courageous.”

“Hmm. And humble.”

“That too.” 

This was good. This felt like it should, like he remembered. The banter flowed back and forth between them as natural as the tides, rehashing stories of missions gone almost wrong.

“Thank the Spirits Wrex was there to carry your almost corpse back to the Mako.”

“How was I supposed to know that you can’t fight a Thresher Maw on foot?”

“From the  _ size _ of it, Shepard.”

But little things were out of place. Her laugh was harsher. Her quips were sharper. Her eyes never seemed to be engaged with the conversation. He didn’t want to notice. It’d be so much easier to just pretend that everything was the same, to just settle into this unexpected reunion and be grateful that the old times were back again. But after a few drinks he finally worked up the courage to ask, “So how has it been working for Cerberus?” 

She didn’t answer right away. Her jaw moved side to side.

“It’s…” She huffed a sigh. “We’ve barely begun this Collector fight and everything’s already more complicated. When we took down Sovereign I was technically juggling the Alliance and the Council, but I felt like I could at least trust them both.

“With Cerberus… I know there’s an ulterior motive. There has to be. He and Miranda can spout their lines about elevating humanity all they want, but I know that they want me for something. Something useful for them. They wouldn’t have spent all the money on rebuilding me and the  _ Normandy _ without some sort of point. I just haven’t figured out what yet.”

“How did they rebuild you?” Garrus asked.

“You’d have to ask Miranda for specifics. Most I know is it took two years and several billion credits, but in their eyes The Lazarus Project was a success.” She finished her drink and pushed it forward on the bar. “I guess in a way it was.”

He noticed that there were dark half-circles under her eyes. He wasn’t sure if they were significant, but they gave him another reason for concern anyway.

“Listen,” she continued, “I know we saved you from almost certain death and then patched you back up, but things aren’t like they used to be. Are you still interested in joining my team again?”

“I’m almost insulted that you feel you have to ask.” He smiled a little at her, hoping to see it returned. But she just nodded.

“Then I have a favor to ask you,” she said, solemnly.

“Anything.”

“I need you to be honest with me.” He almost made a joke, but the look on her face made him keep his mouth shut. “I need to know that there is someone on my team that I can trust implicitly. You’ve been that person before, but I need to know explicitly that I can now.”

Her eyes were focused on him with burning intensity. 

He nodded. “Of course. ...Anything I should watch out for?”

She hesitated for a second. “Miranda says that they put me back together without making any changes. She says there’s not a control chip in my head…” she trailed off, her jaw clenched, the muscles in her arms tightened.

“You don’t believe them,” he finished for her.

“Would you?” He had to shake his head no. “I hope that time will prove me wrong. But if I’m not…” She didn’t finish her sentence. He could practically see the weight of the galaxy’s expectations settled on her. “I need you to watch my back, even from myself.”

“I will, Shepard. I promise.”

She relaxed and turned back to look at the bar top. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. The loud thumping base of the music filling the lack of conversation.

He looked down at her after a minute. “Can I ask a favor in return?” 

She looked up at him. “Anything.”

“I’d like you to be honest with me too.”

She sat up a little straighter. But then nodded. “Of course.”

Permission granted, he leaned in closer and covered her hand with his. The question that had been burning on his tongue since the moment he first saw her on the balcony could finally be asked. “Shepard, are  _ you _ okay?” 

From the way she looked at him, he’d obviously caught her off guard. 

“You can tell?” He barely heard her above the noise of the club and the expression on her face--like an animal that knew it’d been caught.

“It’s not obvious, if that’s what’s worrying you,” he assured her. He just knew her too well to not see all the small signs pointing to something much bigger. Her apprehension eased off a bit, but she didn’t fully relax. “But are you okay?”

He studied her face. She looked from him down to his hand. He almost removed it but, surprisingly, she turned her arm and took his hand in hers. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Her eyes glanced up to meet his. It took him a moment to recognize the expression, he had seen it so few times from her. It was fear. “They woke me up early because the station was under attack. But I… I don’t think I was done. I don’t think I’m all the way here.”

As near as he could tell, Shepard had always been honest with the team, with him. As honest as any military leader could be. But this was more than just honesty. This was a vulnerability that he never expected to see. A reminder that she was just as mortal as he. He wondered just how few people got to see the cracks in her armor like this. It took his breath away.

“It’s not that I just look a little different, I  _ feel _ different,” she continued in the same small voice. “I feel… numb. It’s like I’m trying to fight through a fog just to care about the simplest things. 

“Cerberus did what they set out to do. They raised a Shepard from the dead. One that can walk and talk and shoot a gun. Would they even care if they didn’t raise Jane?” She lowered her head and sighed. “Would anyone?”

“I would,” he breathed. 

She looked up at him with an unfathomable expression for a minute. 

“I would care,” he repeated in a stronger voice.

“You would,” she echoed quietly, looking down at their hands.

She brought her other hand over and covered his. Her thumb idly ran over the tough skin on the back of his hand. Everything else around him besides her dimmed. For a few minutes neither of them spoke, just remained in a quiet reminder that the other was still beside them. He would have lingered in that thought for the rest of the night if she’d let him.

She then exhaled and looked back up at him. “Thank you, Garrus.” She smiled gently and he was gratified to see that it reached her eyes. 

Unfortunately, the delicate moment between them was smashed when the bartender approached and set two drinks down in front of them.

“We didn’t order anything,” Garrus growled, his subvocals betraying his annoyance at being interrupted. Shepard pulled her hands back and frowned down at the drinks.

“What are these?” She asked.

“Dextro and levo Angel’s Delights.” The bartender gestured to the two glasses. “Compliments of Aria.” 

They both turned to her balcony and saw Aria. She raised her glass to them. Shepard looked quickly down at the glasses then back to Garrus. Angel’s Delights…  _ very _ subtle, Aria. He suddenly didn’t feel quite as safe as he had moments ago.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” Shepard said, standing up quickly. Garrus glanced back up at the balcony. A grin spread across Aria’s face, exposing too many teeth for comfort. He managed to toss a scowl in her direction before he followed Shepard out of Afterlife.

Later that night, he was back in the battery. Shepard had been right, of course. Garrus found several bugs in this small room alone. Hopefully he’d gotten them all. He wasn’t sure whether he should destroy them or not so they sat in a neat little pile on the crate in the corner, underneath a folded blanket.

But of all the things they’d talked about, he hoped that her instincts were wrong about at least a few. If she was compromised--he stopped himself dead in his tracks. There was no need to go down that road until it was necessary. Until then, he’d follow Shepard into the abyss if she asked him to. 

Though, he quietly admitted to himself, he would rather just see her smile a real smile again. Make her face turn pink with laughter. Hold her hand and talk of old times.

He stopped. He harshly rubbed the back of his hand and forced himself to stop thinking. Things were already complicated enough in their lives. There was no need to bring any of that into what they had. He would have her six and she would have his. And that would be enough. It would have to be.


End file.
